


Masks

by katkoo



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: i'm sad about maelgwyn, spoilers for marielda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 17:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16644203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katkoo/pseuds/katkoo
Summary: Maelgwyn looks for a way to to stop the Heat and the Dark and goes to Samot for help.





	Masks

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Linda for reading this before I posted it

Emerging from the gauntlet was disorienting, to say the least. It was strange enough to have a body for the first time in fifteen years, but stranger still was the fight he was suddenly a part of-- there were ghosts, a dead werewolf-boy, a cobbin, even the body of a pala-din. Besides all this, Maelgwyn’s mind was in chaos. He couldn’t remember how he’d ended up trapped in a vault in a library and could only remember bits of who he was. He remembered Charter, but she was helping him, which didn’t make very much sense, based on what he thought he knew of her. But instinct kicked in and he was able to get himself and his strange new allies out of the situation. There would be time to figure things out later. 

Slowly, he remembered. He and Charter helped each other remember. As he put the pieces back together, anxiety about the Heat and the Dark began to gnaw at him. He remembered leaving Samothes’ army-- Samothes was wrong about the Heat and the Dark and Maelgwyn knew he had to find a solution. He couldn’t linger in Marielda any longer-- he needed to go to the mainland and seek out someone who could help him. The mages were the obvious answer. They had been studying the Heat and the Dark for years and must have some idea, no matter how vaguely defined, of how to prevent it. They would be his first stop. He hoped he wouldn’t have to go any further.  


He arrived at the Tower expectant and hopeful, only to be immediately disappointed. At first, they were wary of him. After all, he had served Samothes for most of his adult life. But confidence could get you far and he eventually convinced them to discuss matters with him, though they were still not very helpful.  
“Samot has something he’s working on,” one the mages said. This was not the answer Maelgwyn was hoping for, but he pressed onwards.

“Then I will speak to Samot,” he replied

“Lord Samot doesn’t--”

Maelgwyn seemed to loom taller above them, his shadow growing longer, face growing brighter. “I will speak to my father.”

“Yes, of course. Right this way, Maelgwyn.”

Maelgwyn followed the mage down a long hall into a chamber lined with bookshelves. In the center of the room was a simple table with a mask carefully placed upon it. The mask was in Samot’s likeness. Maelgwyn had to smile at that; Samot’s vanity wasn’t a creation of his childhood imagination, then.

“Simply put it on and you will be connected to Lord Samot,” the mage said.

Maelgwyn approached the table, careful not to appear hesitant although he felt dread in his heart. It had been so long since he had seen him. His pre-gauntlet memories were still fuzzy but he hadn’t spoken to or even seen Samot for years before he was imprisoned. Would Samot even want to speak with him, after he had chosen Samothes?

He heard the mage exit, closing the door behind him. Maelgwyn closed his eyes and put on the mask.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in a small but lavish tent. It was lit by an array of lanterns and candles, mismatched, but all the more homey for being so. A man sat at a desk with his back to Maelgwyn, hunched over a book. The desk was piled high with books, giving the man a protective barrier between himself and whoever would disturb him.

“Now is not a good time, Fester. I believe we weren’t scheduled to talk for several days,” the man said, his voice exhausted and slightly irritated.

“Samot,” said Maelgwyn, taking a small step forward.

Samot froze, stood up, and slowly turned around. The shock on his face melted into joy, which was quickly contained.

“Maelgwyn,” he said, his voice calm. “It is good to see you. Come, sit down.” He gestured toward a table and two chairs in the corner of the tent. They both sat, and two goblets of wine appeared.

They remained silent for some time. Maelgwyn looked around the tent, taking it all in, trying to determine where they were. Samot’s eyes remained fixed on Maelgwyn’s face.

“You’re with the mages?” Samot asked.

Maelgwyn’s eyes snapped back to Samot. “Yes.”

“And before that?”

“Marielda.”

Samot nodded. He thought for a moment, then made a decision. “I am on my way to Marielda. I plan to conquer it soon.”

“That is probably for the best.”

Samot seemed surprised, but again quickly schooled his expression to one of interest and concern. He took a sip of wine. “How so?”

“Samothes is not fit to govern. He spends all his days in his volcano coming up with new horrible inventions, not caring what becomes of his poorest and most vulnerable citizens. Reconfiguration is a curse, and his fish rocks destroy their homes--”

“Fish rocks?” Samot interjected.

Maelgwyn continued, not wanting to deviate from his prepared speech. “He is not what the people need. Besides all this, he is doing nothing about the Heat and the Dark. He cannot protect his people from mundane dangers, let alone the destruction of Hieron.”

Samot let Maelgwyn take a breath.

“Is this why you came to me?”

Maelgwyn picked up his goblet, swirling it around, watching the wine instead of Samot as he replied. “Yes,” he said. “I want to do something about the Heat and the Dark.”

Samot took another sip of his wine. “I can help you. Or, rather, you can help me. I am working on something. Contact me again in a week and we can discuss it further.”

“Okay.”

Samot stood up and Maelgwyn followed.

“I’m glad you came to me,” Samot said, and the tent began to blur. Maelgwyn wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a tear form in the corner of Samot’s eye as he faded away.

Then Maelgwyn was alone in the chamber in the Tower, holding the mask in his hands.

The mage, Fester, was waiting for him outside the chamber. Maelgwyn strode past him, clutching the mask.

“Lord Maelgwyn!” Fester called, trying to match Maelgwyn’s long strides. “The mask!”

“I will be keeping this,” Maelgwyn replied.

“I-- yes, of course,” Fester said, halting at the exit as Maelgwyn disappeared into the night. 

Maelgwyn contacted Samot again a week later, as Samot had requested. And then again a week after that. Eventually, their meetings grew more frequent, even as Maelgwyn returned to Marielda. He was still hesitant to get close to Samot, however. He could never forget that he was a Wolf. A king and a general, yes, but always a Wolf.

At one of their meetings, when Samot had no new news about the Heat and the Dark, Maelgwyn finally got the courage (perhaps under the influence of a little too much wine) to ask the question he didn’t realize he had wanted to ask since he was a child.

“Why did you leave?”

Samot was unable to control his expression this time, or perhaps he didn’t want to. He just looked terribly, terribly sad.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Samot reached for his wine but stopped himself. “I couldn’t stay. Not with Samothes refusing to listen, not while my father was dying. I couldn’t do nothing.”

“But you could leave me.”

Samot’s eyes filled with tears. Maelgwyn didn’t know what to do. He had never seen his father this vulnerable. He almost wanted to leave and give Samot some privacy. But he needed to have this conversation. And Samot didn’t deserve privacy-- he owed Maelgwyn. Maelgwyn was a child and his papa left with barely a goodbye. Maelgwyn needed this from him.

Samot spoke, the tears now running down his cheeks. He looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. “I wanted to remain near you. But I needed to go where the work was. I told myself that I was doing this for you-- I was saving Hieron not just for Samol or the rest of the people who live here, but for you, so that you could live.” He turned his gaze to Maelgwyn, looking him straight in the eye. “I wanted there to be a place for my beloved son to live in peace.”

Maelgwyn had to look away. He couldn’t bear the weight of his father’s sorrow and guilt. “I’d like to go now.”

Samot dried his eyes with a handkerchief. “Okay.”

They both stood, and Maelgwyn prepared to be sent back to his room in Marielda.

“May I…” Samot said, gesturing towards Maelgwyn. Maelgwyn nodded. Samot put his hand on his cheek and whispered, “I love you, my son,” before fading from view.

Maelgwyn could not forgive Samot, but he could move forward. He understood why Samot did what he did, even if the memory still hurt. At any rate, he was right about the Heat and the Dark and that something must be done, at any cost. As he walked the streets of Marielda that night, he considered that maybe this could be a new start for him and his father. 

As the weeks went by and Samot and Maelgwyn continued to meet, their conversations became warmer, less business-like. Maelgwyn found himself confiding in Samot. He told him about the Six and about his excursions as a masked hero. Samot in turn seemed lighter, the weight of the world lifted ever so slightly. For the first time, Maelgwyn had hope that they would succeed and things would get better.

Until one day Samot seemed more distant. He was less inclined to talk about things besides the Heat and the Dark. Maelgwyn assumed it was because his army was getting closer to Marielda. The calm before a battle was always a stressful time for him and he imagined it must be the same for Samot. Planning to invade your ex-husband’s city must certainly be a burden. Maelgwyn accepted this and tried not to let Samot’s coolness bother him. 

Then Samot had a solution.

And Charter gave him the knife. 

And then it was High Sun Day and he was in Samothes’ forge. He drove the knife through his father’s heart and immediately knew that he was wrong. Samothes whispered something into his ear but he couldn’t hear it over the sound of his own rage. All he could hear was his own blood roaring through his veins and the words in his head, repeated over and over: “Samot betrayed me. Samot betrayed me.” How could he have been so stupid to trust him? Samot was a Wolf, a wild thing. And he betrayed him again. He pulled the knife out of his father’s chest and Samothes crumpled to the ground. The only thing he could think to do was take out his rage on Samot’s mages. One by one, they all fell. Then he was alone with his dead father and the Six. He didn’t know what to do. All he wanted was his daddy back.

All he wanted was his daddy back…


End file.
